The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Skeeter’s burned out. What can I say, it’s been a hard week of fake news. The President ran up to Canada to piss on the legs of our (former) allies, mocked them for being upset he’d started a trade war, then for good measure called on them to include Russia and his pal Putin back in the G-7 or 6 or maybe 8. He set in motion new measures to kill Obamacare, small stuff like canceling the provision that you can’t be denied coverage for pre-existing conditions, then jetted off for a Summit with Little Rocket Man. It’s more than enough to make a bobble head’s head spin, but mine is about ready to fly off my shoulders. The mid-terms can’t come quick enough for me.

And if the country decides Trump is their boy once again after a year and a half of idiotic shenanigans, anti-democratic rantings and monkey wrench after monkey wrench in established world policies, well … maybe it’s time to admit I don’t know America, not really. I don’t understand it’s heart, it’s people, it’s love of a real estate huckster with deeply despotic tendencies. I will finally admit to being a stranger in a strange land after all these years. And make decisions accordingly.

Meanwhile, I need a break from the moronic monstrosities of the daily news. I need some wilderness. So … we’re hauling out to Montana to a cabin hopefully out of cellphone range, beyond the reach of digital TV, smack dab in the middle of nowhere, a place we won’t wonder if it’s fake or real. It’s real. It’s nowhere like where we are now.

Hits: 344